The Last Time of Forgiveness

The spotlight at the product launch had dimmed twice when I saw Calvin Gabriel walk in. Beside him was a girl in an off-white dress, the tips of her hair still carrying the scent of osmanthus from outside the door. The girl clutched Calvin's arm, her cheeks flushed, but her voice deliberately higher: "This is Wendy's company, right? It'd be awful if she caught us." Calvin picked up a silver-gray toy from the display stand, lazily running his fingertips over it. When his gaze swept across me, it was full of taunting: "Relax, she'll only envy that I'm using these on you." "Maybe she'll even pick up the same set herself and kneel by the bed begging me at night." When Calvin said those words, the girl's gaze shot straight at me, sharp as needles. I stepped out from backstage, took the things they had chosen, fingers pinching the ribbon, voice steady: "I sincerely wish you both all the best—may you always stay this good." Calvin must have forgotten that summer four years ago when he saved my life. Back then, I promised him that no matter what he did, I would forgive him unconditionally a hundred times. Today is the hundredth. I turned to leave, but he suddenly grabbed my wrist. His palm was cold, his tone dripping with condescension: "If you want, I can use my extra card to get you the same one. After I'm done having fun with Ruby, then I'll teach you how to use it." After he finished speaking, he let go of me and naturally took Ruby Wade's hand, his fingertips lightly tracing her palm. The colleagues gathered around, their voices thick with envy: "Mr. Gabriel and Ms. Scott have been married for four years and still shop at places like this together. Their relationship must be so good!" "If I had a husband like that, my life would feel complete." I heard those words; my steps faltered, but I didn't look back. Four years ago, I thought the same thing. Back then, Calvin Gabriel and I had just graduated and were traveling to an ancient town in the south when we were caught in a once-in-a-century flood. I can't swim. I was stranded on a patch of earth about to be washed away, surrounded by murky water with floating branches. Calvin Gabriel had already boarded the rescue boat, but when he realized I wasn't there, he jumped back in. He shoved me into an oversized waterproof bag, tied it to his waist with a rope, and said, "Don't be afraid. If we're going to die, we'll die together." In the end, he fought for his life and barely managed to swim to the other side with me. I lay crying in his arms. He rested his chin on the top of my head and said, "Wendy Scott, marry me." I nodded, and he pulled out another divorce agreement, already signed with his name. "If I ever betray you, I'll walk away with nothing and give you everything." Now, sitting at my desk, I opened the ticket app and bought a plane ticket back to my hometown for three days from now. I also took out my resignation letter from the drawer, folded it carefully, and planned to hand it to my boss this afternoon. I was born with congenital heart disease. My parents abandoned me at the hospital door; it was my Grandmother who took me back. Now that I've saved enough money and broken free from Calvin Gabriel, all I want is to go back and spend time with my Grandmother. By the time I got home, the sky had already darkened. I rummaged to the bottom of the wardrobe and pulled out that metal box. Inside was the divorce agreement from four years ago, coated with a thin layer of dust. I brushed off the dust with my fingertips, picked up the pen, and carefully wrote my name, stroke by stroke. No sooner had I set the pen down than a stabbing pain shot through my chest. Clutching my chest, I collapsed onto the sofa, the divorce agreement slipping to the floor. I fumbled for my phone, intending to call the family doctor, but instinctively dialed Calvin Gabriel's number instead. The call had just connected when the door opened and Calvin walked in. I thought he would come over to help me, but his phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the caller ID and gave me a faintly apologetic look: "I've called the doctor over. There's an emergency at the company, so I have to leave first." He didn't notice the divorce agreement on the floor, nor did he ask if I was in pain. At three in the morning, just as I was recovering from the sharp pain, I closed my eyes, hoping to rest a little. Suddenly, Calvin's voice came from behind: "Wendy, my stomach's feeling off. I want to have that brown sugar ginger date tea you made last time." I remember his pale face in the flood, struggling to get up and stumbling toward the kitchen. I know better than anyone—it's not him who wants a drink, it's Ruby. Let's just say this is the last time, repaying the life-saving favor he once gave me. I poured the tea into the thermos; Calvin took it and turned to leave. At the doorway, as if remembering something, he turned back and said, "Oh right, I forgot your birthday last month; I'll make it up to you tomorrow night." I watched his retreating figure, silent. The next evening, with the signed divorce agreement in hand, I went to the venue he had named for the party. The party was on the rooftop terrace, with shimmering lights casting a glow over Calvin. He wore a bespoke cobalt blue suit, looking exceptionally striking. He saw me, quickly walked over, grabbed my hand, and led me toward the center of the terrace. "I've prepared a surprise for you." Before I could even take out the divorce agreement, I heard a buzzing sound overhead. Looking up, countless drones formed the words in the sky — "Happy Birthday, Ruby." Calvin's eyes flickered with a trace of panic as he hurriedly said, "They must have made a mistake. I'll get them to change it."